


Dining In

by orphan_account



Series: Savory & Sweet [2]
Category: Ghostbusters (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, Fluff and Smut, I'm not sorry, food truck au, no ghostbusters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-09
Updated: 2016-10-09
Packaged: 2018-08-20 10:59:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8246464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Second part of the Food Truck AU that you guys requested so I caved and wrote it. Holtzbert. Slight-smut. Not sorry.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Qym](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Qym/gifts).



> I don't typically enjoy writing smut, so apologies ahead of time. Also, Qym has created this monster so if you really wanna yell at someone - still yell at me because they are too precious for this world and deserve nothing but love for helping me create this monstrosity.
> 
> Also, if you haven't read the first part of this fic, I tried to write it where it can be a standalone but it still might be best that you do read it, here is the link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/8241737.
> 
> As always, enjoy! :3 All mistakes are my own.  
> DISCLAIMER: I OWN NOTHING

As mid-October reached New York, it had been a near two weeks since Holtzmann had been able to make it back to the Upper West Side – she and Kev had acquired quite the fan-base in Hell’s Kitchen that kept them mighty busy and quite popular, then there was the rock-show stint that Kev’s roommates were throwing in Tribeca that they attended and sold out nearly three months’ worth of food in under five hours – so as much as she was loathe to admit, she was very happy when business slowed back down enough to give them leeway and head back up Manhattan toward the pristine campus of Columbia University, in hopes of seeing the beautiful redhead once more. _Erin, with an ‘E’_.

 

“Marti called, he’s not thrilled about the backlogged order of cashmere buns,” Kev brought Holtz out of her reverie as she parked the truck, a bit closer to the science building – for optimal customer service, _of course_.

 

“I think the word you’re looking for is _Kaiser_ buns, Kev,” Holtzmann ruffled the blonde’s updo, knowing that Marti, her long-time supplier of the best dough goods this side of the Hudson, probably had a time trying to make sure Kev understood his words carefully, he put up with Kev’s eccentricities because he adored Holtzmann and her business.

 

“That’s what I said, cashmere, _K-A-I-S-E-R,_ ” he explained with a goofy grin, tapping his pencil against the inventory log on his lap. She rolled her eyes fondly and didn’t bother correcting him, stepping into the back of the truck, she fired up the grills and the fryer, allowing her hands to rest just above the heating metal to try and warm them from the October chill. Poor circulation from years of messing around with soldering irons and other various tools.

 

She unlatched the back of the truck to step outside, throwing a reminder to Kev over her shoulder to unload the freezer as she set up the awning and pretended not to notice that it took her longer than usual as she strained her neck to glance at the passersby’s, hoping to see a particular blue-eyed beauty – _stop it, Holtz_ – she sighed and got back to work, knowing that she was lucky to have met the woman, but it was unlikely in a place like New York, even _Columbia_ , to run into the woman a second time.

 

Erin – _with an ‘E’_ – did not seem to be the type of person who ate off of food trucks, anyhow, she struck Holtz as the type to bring her own lunch, possibly something healthy and greener than anything Holtzmann would enjoy eating herself.

 

“Hey boss, here come the _consumers_!” Kev smiled, using a three-dollar word from his paperback Webster that Holtzmann had bought for him so he’d get a better handle on speaking proper “American English” after he accidentally insulted an elder customer who didn’t understand that Kev meant to call his hat awesome, but instead called it a floppy _Mom-strosity_.

 

Then again, it really was an _awful_ hat.

 

“Let’s make a living,” she nodded, tossing her soft leather jacket onto the back of her drivers’ seat as she climbed back into the truck, knowing she’d not need it once she started cooking. She began her prep of chopping veggies and creating batter for the onion rings before tossing them into the fryers with loud pops, sizzling soon took over the sounds of the Pandora 80’s station that played from the front of the truck as she and Kev began taking orders and tossing various food items back and forth, entertaining the student body of customers.

 

As an old favorite song of hers began playing – _Rhythm of the Night_ – she had Kevin turn it up and she began dancing as she filled extra plastic containers of her ecto-sauce.

 

“I love DeBarge,” Holtzmann froze as she slid the tray of sauces into the cooler to keep them fresh and her stomach began doing that weird flippy thing. Glancing up, her eyes met the mirth-filled ones of the woman who’d been plaguing Holtzmann’s mind since they first met.

 

“Who doesn’t love them? I mean, _c’mon, classic!_ ” Holtzmann managed to choke out, clearing her throat. “Nice to see you, Erin with an ‘ _E’,_ ” her confidence returning as the woman’s face seemed to glow knowing Holtzmann had remembered her name. Her heart began double-timing in her chest cavity.

 

“Hello, Holtz,” Erin offered back, with an awkward finger gun and had she not been holding onto the fridge door, she would have swooned.

 

“What sort of grease-filled concoction can I help clog those beautiful arteries with today?” Holtz winked, grabbing one of her spatulas and flipping a burger in mid-air, catching it with a bun as she spoke, earning a few claps from a couple customers that Kev was currently servicing. A lovely rose hue hinted at Erin’s high cheekbones and Holtzmann nearly burnt herself when she couldn’t get over just how beautiful the older woman was.

 

“No lunch, I was hoping I could get another one of those cappuccinos, though?” Holtzmann frowned, she normally didn’t sell coffee, but she remembered making Erin one just so she could have another minute with her…

 

“Riiiiight, yeah – I’m afraid I can’t,” Holtzmann felt her own heart drop when Erin’s face fell, it was miniscule, but Holtzmann noticed either way. “I mean I _would_ , but Kev here – he broke our machine last week.” It was true, Kev had accidentally put actual coffee grounds into the filtration system of the machine and it nearly blew a hole through the side of her truck when it malfunctioned.

 

“That’s a shame, I haven’t been able to find anyone else’s coffee to taste as good, maybe another time?” Erin smiled, hopeful.

 

 _Gods, please don’t let me be reading this wrong_ , Holtzmann internalized.

 

“How about later? Tonight? Coffee? Or y’know, something else – drinks or … I can cook. It doesn’t have to be burgers – are you a vegetarian? I can try-”

 

Erin’s giggles stopped Holtzmann’s high-pitched rambling and her jaw snapped shut, worried at first that the woman was laughing _at_ her, but then Erin wiped her eyes, smiling at Holtzmann with a fondness that she’d never seen really directed at her before.

 

“That sounds wonderful, I’d love to,” Erin reached into her purse and grabbed a business card, handing it over to a stunned Holtzmann. “Give me a call later? My last class lets out at five-thirty.”

 

Holtzmann took the card, almost robotically, pretending that the tingling in her fingers that brushed Erin’s was just a part of her poor circulation issues. She nodded dumbly, and couldn’t believe her luck as Erin – _with an E_ – stepped back from the truck, goofy grin plastered across her face.

 

“See you?” she called out, aiming a finger-gun at Holtzmann.

 

“Y-yeah! I-” she cleared her throat, unable to form a proper sentence together. _C’mon, Holtzmann!_ “Later!”

 

Erin beamed and waved jovially before turning around and heading back to the building with – dare Holtzmann even hope – a pep in her step.

 

_Did that really just happen?_

 

“Did that really just happen?” a student parroted her thoughts from the window. Holtzmann blinked.

 

“What?”

 

“Dr. Gilbert is a total weirdo, I guess it makes sense,” another student piped up from behind her and Holtzmann frowned as Kevin went to take their money, she stopped him.

 

“No, y’know what – you two _buzzoff_ … I don’t like it when people are rude,” Holtzmann knew that it was bad practice to turn away paying customers, but this wasn’t even about Erin, okay, maybe it _was_ , but she had had a lifetime of people calling her names and being mean and she wasn’t about to give someone else the satisfaction of doing so when the person they spoke ill of couldn’t even be here to defend themselves.

 

“Boss?” Kev looked between them, confused as he had their plates ready.

 

“Give their plates to someone else, on the house,” Holtzmann turned her eyes with a glower at the two shocked students who heard her. “But you heard me, if y’all wanna be rude to someone without them being able to at least speak up for themselves, do it somewhere else, but not here.”

 

“Whatever,” the second guy spoke up, tapping the other student, who looked a bit guilty, on the shoulder.

 

“Yeah, your food isn’t that great anyway,” he sniffed, trying to not look embarrassed as he and his crony walked away without food and a few students who overheard the conversation applauded Holtzmann. Kevin gave the plates, as requested, to the next two younger students without payment, and they walked away happily, with extra ecto-sauce as an apology for the scandal.

 

“That was really cool of you, boss,” Kev clapped Holtzmann on the shoulder when things slowed back down and she was emptying the fryer of old grease.

 

“We don’t ever tolerate bullying here, Kev, just remember that… there’s enough bad shit in this world without adding to it,” Holtzmann sighed, Kev nodded simply. She knew that despite his silence and slightly confused-puppy dog look, that he took her words to heart and understood. He was a great guy that way, he trusted Holtzmann like she was a sister to him and although he wasn’t always the smartest, he’d defend her with his life if necessary.

 

Holtzmann fiddled with the pendant that hung from her neck, a dreadfully heavy thing at times, but it was a constant reminder to the world that she wasn’t going to put up with the bullshit that society expected from her. She only wished that at times she understood what made people become so mean – why society seemed to deem that one personality type was superior to another, or why certain traits automatically deemed you “less than.” It didn’t make sense. Thus, the screw that was soldered carefully around a U-shaped piece of steel that she created in college shortly after her mentor, Dr. Gorin gifted her with the best advice she’d ever received;

 

 _“People are going to tell you your entire life that you have to be this or that, but you need to take a stand for yourself and say Screw You,_ this _is who I am, if you can do that, you can do anything, Jillian…”_

 

She later made the necklace for herself, and a matching pendant that she turned into a broach, for her mentor, who wore it proudly alongside her in the labs at M.I.T. where Holtzmann spent the next six years under her tutelage, picking her brain and idolizing the woman who came to be more like a mother-figure to her than any foster parent ever had.

 

* * *

  
 

Holtzmann toyed with the business card in her fingers as she sat in her dimly lit apartment after having dropped Kevin off at his own an hour ago, five-thirty was vastly approaching and Holtzmann didn’t know if she should try to take the woman’s advice and call her, or if she should maybe give it some time…

 

_She did say she wanted me to call her – but what if she was just being nice? She’s a Professor for crying out loud and look at you, you’ve got a Ph.D. and you work on a food truck…_

 

Holtzmann shook her head, tossing the card on her scratched coffee table, heading to the kitchen for a beer. As she cracked one open with a various tool off of her belt, she looked back around the divider between her kitchen and the living space at the card on the table.

 

It was a generic business card, nothing special, it listed Erin’s information that seemed to be ingrained into her mind like a brand now.

 

 _Dr. Erin R. Gilbert  
__Professor of Theoretical Particle Physics_  
PhD, M.S.  
Office: (212) 854-5151 ext. 4856  
Cell: (734) 910-0545  
Email: [egilbert@columbia.edu](mailto:egilbert@columbia.edu)

 

Holtzmann took a long swig of her beer, allowing the taste of barley and hops to sit on her tongue before swallowing and feeling the warmth blossom in her chest. Erin wanted her to call – she said yes… Why was she chickening out?

 

_Maybe she just wants to have drinks as a friend?_

 

Friends… yes. Holtzmann could do friends – despite that her body and heart desired more. _You barely know her…_ It didn’t matter though. To Holtzmann, she was already set on getting to know the illusive Professor… she couldn’t explain it.

 

Erin was nothing like the women that Holtzmann usually chased around at bars, or followed home for one-night stands. They’d barely held a conversation for longer than ten minutes and already Holtzmann was considering a future of waking up to those beautiful blue eyes that crinkled around the ends when she smiled.

 

 _Stop it, you need to get her out of your system_ … Holtzmann finished her beer and sat the bottle down roughly on her counter, making up her mind. She had to get to know this woman, she had to figure out what made her tick – and more importantly, she needed to figure out _why_ she was so damn drawn to her.

 

* * *

  
 

“ _Hello?_ ” the familiar voice had Holtzmann’s face breaking out into an unwelcome giddy grin. Holtzmann opened her mouth to respond, but nothing came out, her eyes bugged behind her yellow lenses and she tried to think fast.

 

_Talk to her, Holtz! C’mon, don’t be weird now!_

 

“ _Hello? Who is this?_ ” Erin’s voice asked, a little concerned over the line.

 

Holtzmann whimpered and immediately hung up. Squeezing her eyes shut and smacking her phone against her forehead.

 

“Stupid… stupid… _stup ­_ – ahhh!” the phone began to buzz in her palm as the opening strains of Culture Club’s _Karma Chameleon_ began blasting from the speakers and she dropped the phone where it buzzed with the familiar Michigan area-code number she’d just dialed.

 

_Now or never Holtz, grow a pair of tits and answer your fucking phone!_

 

“ _’Lo_?!” she practically shouted into the receiver as she swiped the Answer Call button and cleared her throat. “Hello?” she said in a calmer tone.

 

“ _Hello, I just got a call from this number?_ ” Erin’s voice brought that familiar smile back onto Holtzmann’s face, but she took a breath and nodded, readying herself for a response.

 

“Hi, yeah – I’m looking for Erin… with an ‘E’?” Holtzmann’s cheeky response earned her a tinkling laugh over the line and she felt her confidence boost as her stomach flip-flopped.

 

“ _Well, I hear that’s a popular name, by any chance, may I ask who’s calling?_ ” Erin’s teasing lilt told Holtzmann that she knew who it was obviously, but she enjoyed the little game.

 

“Oh, I’m nobody – just this really top notch chef looking for the pretty girl who gave me her business card today looking for good food and maybe some company?” Holtzmann toned down her flirting, but the laughter on the other end of the line only grew and Holtzmann sat down before she could fall over as Erin chortled in her ear.

 

“ _Hello, Holtzmann, I take it you would like to go for drinks then?_ ” Holtz could practically _see_ the redhead’s smile through her phone.

 

“Sounds good, but I have a slightly better idea if you’re up for it?” Holtzmann asked and Erin seemed to be all-ears.

 

* * *

  
 

Holtzmann shook her nerves out in the elevator as it climbed to the thirty-second story of the much nicer apartment complex in the Upper West Side than Holtzmann could ever hope to afford, what with the amount of student loans she was going to be paying back until she was rotting in her grave.

 

Erin had been surprisingly welcoming to Holtzmann’s plan of allowing her to make them dinner with drinks in favor of going out and spending insane amounts of money in New York’s finer dining establishments. She’d hoped not to come off as cheap, but there was the very real issue that Holtzmann also lived on a budget and had just paid rent so she could only afford so much until next week and she’d hate to wait that long to see the redhead again.

 

Also, this gave her a chance to really showcase her skills and hopefully give the woman a fairer chance to see that Holtzmann didn’t need to have money to impress a woman.

 

She’d quickly thrown together an outfit of her nicer high-waist khaki pants that weren’t stained with grease marks or burn holes, a loose-fit black-and-white striped button-down shirt, one of her louder paisley silk-scarves that serviced as a tie and her nice Oxford shoes in lieu of her favorable combat boots – she even washed her hair before pinning it back in its elaborate up do so she didn’t smell like a grill.

 

As the doors opened, she picked up the bags of groceries that she’d promised and made her way stiffly down the well-lit hall towards 32B.

 

She tugged at her already loosened necktie and hoped that Erin would approve, before rapping her knuckles against the eggshell door that was labeled 32B. She noticed the peephole darken as the approaching footsteps alerted her to someone behind the door, trying to see who was on the other side. Holtzmann offered a smile, praying her nerves weren’t too visible, shouldering the paper grocery bags.

 

The sound of the deadbolt and a chain sliding reached her ears before the door opened and Holtzmann forgot how to breathe as Erin stood behind the door with a welcoming smile in a beautiful short-sleeve black number that swooped under her collarbone just enough to tease Holtzmann, whose mouth watered for something other than food. The skirt of the dress flowed down from the high waist, just below her knees and she was currently barefoot, her hair was pulled back into a ponytail that hung over her left shoulder. She looked like _home_.

 

“You look very dapper,” Erin beamed, breaking the silence by offering to help Holtzmann with the bags. Holtzmann snapped back to attention and shook her head of the thoughts lingering in her mind – _don’t be creepy… stop looking at her like that –_ Holtzmann stepped out of Erin’s reach.

 

“I got it, just tell me where you want me – _the bags_ – tell me where you want the bags?” Holtzmann choked out, cursing her brain-to-mouth filter. Erin let out a low chuckle before guiding her inside.

 

The apartment was spacious, but not so much as to show off grandeur; the furniture all matched – _because of course it would_ – and the atmosphere was cozy. There was an in-line bookshelf filled with thick texts that Holtzmann actually wanted to take a look at later and the kitchen…

 

“I want to live in your kitchen,” Holtzmann stated seriously as her eyes landed on all of the shining stainless-steel appliances, not to mention the double-oven feature and the gas-light stove.

 

Erin laughed.

 

“Yes, well it is all yours – I’m certain it will lavish your attention, with the way I never use it – in fact the only reason I own it is because it came with the apartment,” Erin joked and Holtzmann’s jaw dropped.

 

“How? Why? But – but _look_ at it!” Holtzmann sat the bags down and began perusing the drawers, amazement gracing her features as she found brand new and yes, _unused_ appliances, and tools.

 

Erin rounded the breakfast bar and began looking into the bags, only then did Holtzmann’s attention from the beautiful kitchen wane and focused on batting Erin’s prying hands away.

 

“Nope, no, I got a system and you’re not allowed in here, you may sit on the other side-” Holtzmann was in her element and refused to let Erin do anything at all, this was _her_ treat and Erin smiled, tossing her hands up with a laugh as she backed away playfully and sat back down at the breakfast bar, watching Holtzmann fire up her stove for the first time.

 

She began unloading the bags one by one, muttering under her breath, until Erin realized the words were actually song lyrics and Erin smiled, thinking she sounded so much better than the original.

 

“So – about those drinks,” Holtzmann finally acknowledged Erin as she washed her hands in the sink and pulled out a glass bottle of oil that she spilled heartily into a pan that was heating on the stove and Erin remembered the wine that she promised she had so Holtzmann need only to provide the food.

 

“Right, allow me,” she stepped into the kitchen and glanced in the wine fridge - Holtzmann drooled over that - bringing out a merlot and reached above her to grab two glasses out of a cabinet, filling them both with a healthy serving of red.

 

“Thank you,” Holtzmann grinned, checking the oven temperature as she prepared the main course. She took the glass and cheered Erin’s before taking a delicate sip, enjoying the burst of flavor on her tongue.

 

Erin did the same and let out a little moan that had Holtzmann’s mouth suddenly go dry. Whether she knew what she was doing or not, Holtzmann lowered her gaze to her glass as Erin’s eyes opened once more and met her own.

 

“So, tell me about yourself – I assume that Holtz isn’t your _actual_  first name?” Erin asked, walking back around the breakfast bar, content to watch Holtzmann work. Holtzmann took a moment to gather her wits, but once she had her hands back into the lamb she was prepping to braise, she felt control sweep over her features once more.

 

“I don’t particularly care for my given name – and the guys I worked with at M.I.T. called me Holtzmann because Jillian seemed too feminine and I think it scared them more than nuclear fission did,” Holtz shrugged, seasoning the lamb before washing her hands again to prep the vegetables.

 

“You went to M.I.T.?” Erin balked, surprised, but not rudely so. “What did you study?”

 

“I earned my doctorates from M.I.T. in Nuclear Engineering, and a minor in Particle Physics,” Holtzmann answered honestly. Erin nearly choked on her sip of wine.

 

“You – but … wait, you’re telling me you’re a _doctor_ and you run a food truck? Is that only a side business?” Erin asked, honestly stunned by this information.

 

“No, it’s my full-time job,” Holtzmann responded, serious. She took another sip of her wine before sprinkling salt and pepper on the green beans that she had finished washing.

 

“Okay… well – may I ask why?” Erin was truly intrigued. She’d been impressed with the woman even before she’d revealed this tidbit – it was astounding, pleasantly so.

 

“I think that’s a subject best talked about over a lot more of these,” Holtzmann winked, trying to hide her discomfort with humor as she finished off her first glass and Erin gladly provided her another, but didn’t push.

 

“Okay, well then, at least tell me why you named your truck after paranormal matter?” Erin tried for something a bit more casual.

 

“Ah, well – I found the subject so endearing when I studied at Columbia, ghosts and whatnot, I had this Professor who was a hardcore X-Files nut and a total believer, really cool though, she was young, she even wrote a book-”

 

“Dr. Abigail Yates,” Erin interrupted, her face stoic and Holtzmann blinked at the change in demeanor, checking on the lamb quickly, before turning back to Erin.

 

“As a matter of fact… did you know her?” Holtz asked, surprised.

 

“We… we worked together – years ago,” Erin said, grim. “I don’t like to talk about it.” Holtzmann frowned, unsure how the evening had suddenly taken such a moody turn.

 

“No big, hey – would you like to know my secret recipe?” Holtzmann asked, wagging her eyebrows and beamed when she got the right response. Erin laughed, tickled at Holtzmann’s cheesy pick-up line, but nodded.

 

“You mean for the sauce? That stuff looks radioactive,” Erin snorted into her wine glass.

 

“I’ll have you know it’s only a _tiny bit_  radioactive,” Holtzmann said, mockingly. “But seriously delicious, c’mon I’ll show you!” Holtzmann waved her into the kitchen and Erin blinked, wide-eyed.

 

“I don’t think it’s a good idea, kitchens and I don’t usually mix, I’ve burnt cereal-”

 

“A lovely story that you definitely need to tell me – _while_ we make this, c’mon! Trust me?” Holtzmann grinned, placing her hand over Erin’s on the breakfast counter. Erin visibly gulped, but nodded and Holtzmann tittered excitedly.

 

* * *

 

 

They began chatting about anything and everything as they worked, from simple things like their favorite musicians and what they loved most about New York in the Fall – to things with more meaning like Erin’s passion for science and what it was like growing up in the Midwest and how she wanted to make a difference for women in the scientific research community.

 

Holtzmann dug a little deeper and shared her history in the foster care system, grateful when Erin didn’t look on at her in sympathy, but instead just listened, nodding at the right times in understanding as Holtzmann told her about how she graduated high school at sixteen before emancipating herself so she could study at college where she fell in love with engineering and science.

 

Holtzmann continued to move around the kitchen as if it were her own while Erin watched on, fondly. The blonde moved the braised lamb shanks into the oven to continue cooking as she and Erin finished the bottle of Merlot and Erin got brave and told her about how she’d been bullied as a kid and that Abby, Holtzmann’s former professor, had been her only friend when they met in high school after Abby’d transferred from Indiana, they bonded over their shared love for science, but fell out of touch after college, which she wouldn’t go into detail about but Holtzmann honored that and shared tidbits about her studies at M.I.T. and Dr. Gorin, and how she’d backed out of a deal with CERN after she’d graduated.

 

Erin found herself more and more intrigued by the younger woman with the more they got to know the other. Finally, Holtzmann brought out a new set of ingredients while they finished waiting for their dinner to be ready.

 

Erin followed step-by-step as Holtzmann shared with Erin how to make her beloved sauce that even Kevin had no idea how to make, even if he knew all of the ingredients that technically went into it.

 

As Holtzmann finished checking the temperature of the lamb before shutting the oven door, Erin nervously stood with a strainer of green goo over a bowl at the adjacent marble countertop.

 

“Okay, so it’s nearly all strained, there may be some bits of egg left, that’s normal,” Holtz said, guiding a still-nervous Erin’s hands to shake out the last bits of actual sauce into the bowl beneath the strainer. “You got this – now we just have to get a little bit of the granulated cane sugar.”

 

Erin hummed, feeling Holtzmann reach around her waist to grab at the package of C&H. She felt herself lean back into Holtzmann’s arms and couldn’t help the smile that took over when the younger woman didn’t pull away, but instead, grabbed a handful of the sweet grain and tossed it into the bowl, before taking the strainer from Erin’s hands and placing a whisk in her right, overlapping her digits to show her how to stir.

 

“Very good, you’re a pro at this,” Holtzmann grinned, a little too close to Erin’s ear apparently and Erin let out a soft moan that had both women pausing their motions. Erin’s face went as red as her hair and Holtzmann stared, wide-eyed at the beautiful woman in her arms.

 

“Erin?” Holtzmann eyed the redhead, who barely moved, let alone looked like she wasn’t breathing at this point.

 

“Hmm?” the redhead gulped and Holtzmann watched her throat bob up and then down, her vision tunneling as her heart began beating erratically against her ribcage, she was almost certain that Erin would feel it against her back where they were practically melted into one another.

 

“I’d really like to kiss you right now,” Holtzmann’s filter was out of the window, had completely abandoned her in her most desperate time of need and she felt the woman stiffen against her.

 

Holtzmann let go of Erin’s hand, immediately stepping back, knowing she’d probably just scared the woman who’d shown her nothing but kindness and in return, Holtz had misread it completely.

 

_Shit, shit, shit… why couldn’t you just keep it in your pants, Holtzmann!?_

 

Before she could even open her mouth to apologize, however Erin rounded on her heel, grabbed Holtzmann by the lapels of her shirt and yanked her forward, crashing their lips together in a hungry, devouring kiss.

 

Holtzmann’s knees went weak and she couldn’t be sure who made that inhumanly sexy moan, but she knew she wanted to hear it again as she gained her bearings. Erin’s fingers playing with the lapels of her shirt and one fingering her collarbone, Holtzmann’s hands landed on her waist and she pressed her back against the counter, fronts meshing together causing both women to groan, Erin’s mouth opening in a gasp and Holtzmann’s tongue swept her bottom lip, seeking permission that was granted and Holtzmann felt herself melt as Erin’s tongue danced with her own.

 

She tasted faintly of red wine, mint toothpaste and _home_ and the scent of fresh flowers ensconced her senses, making her feel heady, almost high.

 

Fingers squeezed, pulled, explored, mouths twined and fused and hearts beat in tandem until Holtzmann could hear the faint alarm off of her phone reminding her that the lamb needed to be taken out of the oven.

 

She cursed her professionalism as she regretfully broke away from Erin, long enough to turn the oven off, before turning back to see a dazed redhead with heavy eyes and swollen lips staring back at her in awe and in shock.

 

 _Did that really just happen_? She found herself asking internally for the second time that day.

 

“Uhm – so… dinner?” Holtzmann scratched the back of her neck, unsure of how to approach the kiss they’d just shared, but thankfully Erin wasn’t disheartened.

 

The redhead’s lips turned up into a lopsided smile that made Holtzmann feel faint as she approached, slowly and rested one hand on Holtzmann’s waist, another against the woman’s cheek, sliding up and into the blonde’s curls.

 

“I’m starving – but not for food,” Erin whispered breathily as her forehead pressed against Holtzmann’s. “However, if you’d rather eat lamb-”

 

“Fuck the lamb,” Holtzmann groaned, for the first time in her life not giving a flying fuck about the work she put into the meal for this beautiful woman who was without a doubt, everything Holtzmann wanted and _more_. She kissed Erin hungrily and pulled her into her arms, quickly thrusting their hips together and Erin groaned.

 

“No, fuck _me_ instead,” Erin bit Holtzmann’s lip and then nipped at her jawline, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to her jaw before taking Holtzmann’s earlobe into her mouth and suckling tenderly.

 

Holtzmann got her wish as the evening went on and heard that heady, beautiful moan in the rhythm of her name, mixed with several “ _oh Gods!_ ” the rest of the night, well into the morning.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so sorry.


End file.
